I Ain't Goin' Down
by Orokid
Summary: Harry helps out Hermione in the worst time in her life.
1. Needing Help

_orokid: Anyway, this is kind of something I thought up while over the summer- and yes, I know its winter, but I don't really have too much of a life to type, so leave me alone._

_Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Even my soul belongs to my best friends and I just can't get it back. cries_

_**I Ain't Goin' Down**_

Chapter One

Harry fidgeted as he waited for Hermione to show, wondering briefly why he was there. From out of nowhere during lunch, she had approached him with a small smile, slipping something into his palm before dismissing herself away without so much as a word. The note he had received had told him to meet her in the Room of Requirement at an hour before lights out.

Unsure what to expect, he had turned the ever changing room into a small common-room, a fire blazing heartily in the corner. He hoped that this would seem cozy enough for her, because whatever she needed to say was probably going to make her very nervous.

Glancing at his muggle watch, which had once long ago been Dudley's (when it had been able to fit around his fat ten year-old wrist), he noticed that she was beginning to run later than she had probably assumed she would have, leaving him alone in this room, sitting before the fireplace in hopes to warm his lonely heart.

His mind concocted differing thoughts about what she had brought him there for, and what she was going to tell him. All of his current thoughts seemed to be more than promising for him, and he just couldn't help but turn beat red at the images in his mind.

He mentally slapped himself, knowing that what she had come to tell him was most likely more about something else than anything like that.

She couldn't have possibly called him here for… that, right? Ron and she had dated in secret for two months and hadn't even had the decency to tell him about it until they had broken it off. He felt like an idiot for not noticing it before, and he felt angry towards his best friends for a while for not trusting him enough.

But since Ron was being a complete and total prick towards Hermione, Harry had ended up forgiving her in seconds. Now, three or so months later, he had yet to forgive his red haired companion.

For a moment, he remembered the Department of Mysteries, watching as the young woman he called his best friend fall to the floor, seemingly lifeless. The memory seemed to do nothing but kill him on the inside.

With a quick shake of his head, the memory jumbled away to be thought of again some other time. Or otherwise he hoped not to see the bloody thing again.

Slowly, the door opened, a fifteen year-old young woman rushing inside, rubbing at the fragile skin beneath her eyes. He knew what she was trying to do- she was trying to hide her tears from him, not that it helped her all too much that she was trying too hard to hide it.

Her loose clothing shifted around her until she had finally settled herself down in the chair across from him. He strained himself not to get up from where he sat and hold her until whatever pain she had went away.

"Hello Harry", she said to him softly, smiling at him weakly. This only cracked the hold he had held upon himself, shattering it milliseconds later. The dark haired young man got to his feet, moving to her side to wipe the left-over streams from her beautiful face.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, his thumbs massaging her wet cheeks, his emerald orbs staring into her cinnamon eyes. He could see the pain embedded within and it scarred his soul to even see such a sight.

The soft skin of her hands touched the top of his, pulling them away from her face. "Harry", she whispered straightly, as if whatever had happened hadn't affected her at all before. "I've… run into a… strange occurrence, I guess you could say. Well, it's not entirely strange since it's the effect to the actions Ron and I have done. And it had been an irrational decisi-" Harry put a finger to her lips, silencing her babbles with the soft placement. He smiled softly at her, unsure what she was talking about exactly. Something about an action that seemed totally irrational between his two best friends.

He only spoke one word, knowing that it would get across to her, that his evident confusion would be more known. "What?"

She took in a breath as his index finger fell away, carefully using her internal mile-high dictionary to choose different words, just so he could understand what she was telling him. "About four months ago, Ron and I… we had sex."

Harry's brows furrowed and rose at the same time. They-? What-? Why-? What the Hell!

His mind quickly worked to figure out the hidden meaning within her words- because why would she tell him now after a few months had passed? Irrational… Action… Had sex together… Strange occurrence…

Somehow, no matter how much he didn't want to believe it, he had come up with a conclusion. It struck at his heart like an Avada Kedavra curse as he thought back to the last couple of months. Those early mornings he couldn't sleep and found her exiting the girl's bathroom, last month's beginnings of strange food combinations, and, finally, the extra moodiness she had somehow brought upon the world. Everything finally fit together, like some big puzzle.

Truth be told, he hated puzzles. He had always been kind of good at them.

"You… You're pregnant, aren't you?" he questioned, trying to force the depressed tone out from his normal voice. With a hesitant look, she gave him a slow and guilty nod.

Questions raced excitedly through his brain while he felt the organ that pumped blood through his veins lurch at the find. He felt sick to his stomach, and he just hated the idea that she was carrying the other guy's child inside her.

"How far along are you?" he asked her softly, hiding his hurt and hate within himself as usual, feeling as though it hadn't been him who had let the words flow.

She bit her lower lip, gripping the bottom of her dress shirt tightly as she carefully pulled it up. Her stomach had a nice sized bulge, but it was nothing that some loose clothes couldn't hide. "Four months," she whispered, her face red with embarrassment.

"Does Ron know about it?" He gained a glare that most likely would've sent Voldemort to the grave himself, and it all but verbally cursed at him for saying that horried name near her. Once again, Hermione's mood swings were aimed straight at him. He could only wonder why she had the ability to say the man's name while he remained mute to the word. "I suppose that's a no, then. Do your parents?" Her angry glare was cast aside at the mere mention of her mother and father, tears already collecting in her cinnamon eyes. Without thinking, which seemed to be a normal thing for Harry most of the time, he had wrapped her into his arms, giving her as much emotional and physical support as he could and she would allow. "What happened?" he questioned, his breath at her ear. The tingle made her shiver slightly- a strangely good shiver too- and she had no reason as to why it had happened. "What did they say?"

Hermione gripped his shoulders tightly as she recalled the memory, tears beginning to leak from her eyes. Whatever they did or said to her, it obviously wasn't good. He made a mental note to hex them both later- a mild hex that would only scare them into better behavior. Really. Nothing more than a small to mild hex to just scare the muggles into realizing that they were making a stupid mistake.

"They… They told me not to come h-home…" she sobbed into his embrace, and Harry felt his whole body burn at once.

Scratch that last thought. A **strong** hex would do. Maybe even a potentially lethal curse. An unforgivable curse might be just what they were looking for if this was how they were going to treat their only daughter.

Harry understood one thing about parenting, even though he never had a true esample other than the Weasley's- no one ever deserved this kind of punishment. Especially not her. Especially not now.

Thoughts circled through his head as he held her tightly to him, letting her cry out all her uncried sorrows. Where would she go? Maybe she could-

No, she'd refuse the idea immediately. She was the type of woman who did not wish to impose on others. That was just who she was and Harry didn't really care that it she was like that, although it did give him more to work with over the years, he grudgingly admitted to himself.

Although she wouldn't be imposing on him, though. Not if he wanted her to be there, to share his home with (since that was in the whole love plans after all, even though this was a purely plutonic thing for her). Maybe he should just ask her and try to convince her to do it from there. No harm, right?

"'Mione," he whispered softly, pulling away slightly so he could see her face. "You could, well, live with me. I have enough money to buy us our own home, so there wouldn't be any of the Dursleys or anyone really to problem us." She immediately opened her mouth to protest, like he thought she would, but he only placed an index finger on her lips to stop her. "I won't let you do this alone. You mean too much for me to just do that to you."

She was silently, considering the pros and cons about the situation. And it seemed as though there were too many cons to see the positive side of what he was protesting, at least to her.

But there was only one that stood out the most out of them all- he was risking public humiliation. If they lived together, reporters would immediately believe that her baby was his. Everyone in school would think lower of him, and Ron would shun him even more, being the baby that he is. She didn't want that to happen to her best friend.

But it **_was_** easier. That was true. She wouldn't be living out on the streets and would always have someone who cared for her nearby, even if it wasn't more than a plutonic way.

Harry was very forward on the fact that he wouldn't allow her to do this on her own, and she knew that he wasn't lying. He was so stubborn that he would most likely just keep asking until she accepted. He was too kind to leave her at such a crucial time in her life. He was just too… Harry-ish to leave her all alone.

The dark haired teen kissed the top of her hands, smiling up at her with hope in those beautiful emerald orbs of his. For some reason beyond her comprehension, she couldn't refuse Harry Potter anything when he smiled at her like that.

"Fine," she told him with a huff that she hadn't truly meant. His eyes brightened noticeably for the first time since his godfather's death, his smile widening to it's full extent for the first time in what felt like years. And she couldn't help but think that she liked it when Harry smiled like that. It meant that he was back to his old self, if even for a little bit.

He got up from his chair and gave Hermione a tight and loving hug, although he was careful not to hurt her or the child within her womb. The bushy haired young woman hugged him back, a broad smile on her face as she snuggled her head into the warm nape of his neck. She wanted to just stay there and smell his purely Harry scent- which smelled like sweat, broom wax, and a light Egyptian musk smell mixed in with… strawberries and melons (Merlin, she was hungry for fruit now)- forever.

She pushed the thought away, afraid what that meant. Why would she want to smell her best and closest friend for the rest of existence?

The young man held onto her sleek, with a little barely noticeable bulge, body, silent as he just… thought. To his best female friend, he just seemed to be too silent. She pulled away from him, staring intently at his formally excited face. The man before her now was crestfallen, and the usual gleam in his bright emerald eyes was missing in action. Now, more than ever, all she wanted to do was return his room-brightening grin to its place upon his face.

"Harry, what's wrong?" He looked away, pulling his depressed gaze to a part of the floor beside her chair. She placed her palms on his warm cheeks, forcefully directing his eyes to look at hers, which seemed both worried and a little scary. "Answer me now, Potter," she ordered him in a voice that would have made Malfoy shiver in fear, not disgust. She was like a wildfire, ready to trample anyone in her path, it seemed. Hermione really wanted to know what was going on with him, and he knew that she wouldn't stop until he told her what was on his mind, like how he was with her and her child's safety at his home instead of elsewhere. "What's wrong?"

Guiltily, he met her gaze, emerald flowing along with her chocolate, which seemed to have simmered from the blazed that had been there. "We leave to go home tomorrow," he told her softly, forcing himself to smile up at her, although you could tell he was putting a lot of effort into it. "There's no time at all to look for new homes right away or anything."

His explanations suddenly made everything she knew about him and how he had acted make sense. She knew what he feared, what he's wanted out of life, and knew what he did in drastic measures. And both he and she knew how drastic this was at the moment.

Their living destination was now clear to her:

The Black Estate, the home of his dead godfather. It was the only home that he actually owned by right.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her best friend, giving him the comfort needed the best she was able to. Harry hugged her back before his body began to shake with the tears that he couldn't help but shed, her shoulder waiting for him to do what she had done with him so many times before.

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_AN: This is just a new idea I'm trying, so I just want to know whether you like it or not and whether I should continue. I appreciate all reviews and the critics out there as well. Thank you._


	2. Moving In

_((Oops! I had a typo! I'll fix it right now…))_

_orokid: Chapter Two is here! I have broken free from my obsession with Gaia Online (I think)… ninja… and have been typing a lot more- see! Anyway… As I was saying… Wait! What WAS I saying? Cries. I don't remember…_

_Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Even my soul belongs to my best friends and I just can't get it back. Cries. It just isn't fair… I don't own any of the characters nor the story of Harry Potter, nor do I have any title-ship to the song "Breaking the Habit" by Linkin Park._

_**I Ain't Goin' Down**_

Chapter Two

Harry's green suitcase hit the stone floor, his emerald orbs giving painfully at his surrounding scenery. Memories of his long dead (well, not long, but the man was still dead) godfather, the infamous Sirius Black, returned to haunt him once again. His eyes began to tear up at the visions of his lost father figure, and he was so close to just allowing them to fall and quit being the strong man he pretended to be.

A hand lightly touched his trembling shoulder, giving him a strange but thankful feeling of calm as he stood where he was. He didn't have to turn to see who stood behind him, sending him subtitle psychic waves of relaxation and gentle happiness. She had always been able to calm him down eventually from whatever fit he had worked himself into, never once giving up her hope for him. It seemed as if it were a secret power only she possessed and used upon him.

"It's only for a little while, right?" she asked him softly, hoping within herself that it would give him the courage to move beyond the doorway. He gave a silent, albeit hesitant, nod, gulping down the throb inside his heart so he wouldn't hurt as much. It was his hope, at least.

The young man adjusted his glasses before he had picked up his suitcase again, heading up the stairs without really saying much of anything. He stopped halfway, looking back at her, a half-hearted grin finding its way upon his face as he watched her nervously await orders, her standing silently on the first floor. "Are you coming?" he asked her, softly laughing as she snapped out of her solemn trance and made her way up the stairs to greet him.

"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed to have been caught spacing out like she had. She was Hermione Granger, and she just wasn't the type of person to do such a thing.

His partial smile grew a small bit, casting his depression away for but a moment. Unaware about what he was doing, he took her small hand into his large one, squeezing it lightly. "It's alright," he whispered to her, his small grin becoming truer every second his eyes laid upon her. "Don't worry too much about it. If we look back to our classes, I've spaced out a few million times myself."

"And yet you still managed an E for both Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms," she shot back at him, laughing softly, unable to help herself from it. "I have no idea how you do it, Mister Potter."

The Boy-Who-Lived gave a lopsided smile before pulling her up the stairs, their hands still very much entwined together. "Well, as it so happens, I had a first rate tutor to help me out." Before she could say anything, he had stopped, causing her to also (almost into him, might I add). He turned to look at her, and her chocolaty eyes seemed to be focused upon the doorway they stood beside. "This is your room," he told her as he gently slide the door open, carefully leading her inside as if she were a princess more than his female best mate.

What she had seen surprised her.

The room was quite large- a king-sized bed leaning against the corner of the nearest adjoining walls while downed pillows and blankets, all decorated with different blue hues, laid neatly on her perfectly made bed. The walls had been enchanted to envision a lush green forest, her ceiling the sky above them. At noon, it was as if she was lost solitarily in the woods.

At the foot of her bed laid an empty wooden trunk, ready to be filled with whatever she decided to place there. Beside the inviting bed was a small library, it seemed, with four rows of books that lined neatly from one wall to another. Her fingers idly moved over the bindings while her eyes moved across the names of each one. To tell the truth, she hadn't seen some of these books during her last visit to Grimmald Place.

"There are a few 'welcome home' gifts that I asked Kreacher to put in there, just for you. I'd thought that you would enjoy some new ones," he told her, his breath tickling her neck as he whispered into her ear from behind. She had no idea how he had snuck up behind her, nor did she really care. It felt too good to care, right then.

But she did. She HAD to care.

"Thank you, Harry," the bushy haired teenager whispered back to him, leaning against his body that she just knew was there. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness." She felt her best friend's arms encircle her waist, softly hugging her as they stood- and, for some odd and unexplainable reason, Hermione found herself breathless and enjoying his touch much more than she usually did.

"You're welcome, Hermione."

For a long while, they just stood like that, hugging one another. The moment they stood in felt perfect, as if nothing could trouble them while there, in each other's arms.

That was, until Harry pulled away from her, returning to the respectable distance that he held between everyone he knew. "I'll leave you to unpack everything. My room is next door to the right, and your shower is through that door." The dark haired teen pointed to an entryway across from her bed. "It connects to my room, so, if you need me, you can just cross through there and grab me for whatever need there is." He sauntered over to the door he had just pointed out and walked through, leaving her alone in the giant room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry pushed the play button on his stereo, moving about his room as the music began to load.

It felt strange to him to be back in his room, back at Grimmald Place after Sirius's demise. Truthfully, it hadn't been as large as the room Hermione was sleeping him, but he thought that it was better that way. He wasn't the one having the child, and he didn't need all that much room to just... exist.

Finally, the music began, a guitar the heartbeat to the music while the drum pounded softly to the beat.

_Memories consume_

_Like opening the wound_

_I'm picking me apart again_

Harry felt visions erupt from his mind, showing him his godfather while he had been still alive and kicking. It was typical, really, him being here and remembering all the good times, all the good memories, he had before the man's untimely death.

And what killed him each time was the knowledge that it was no one's fault but his own.

_You all assume_

_I'm safe here in my room_

_Unless I try to start again_

The Boy-Who-Lived looked to his wrists, pulling down his sleeves to gawk at the scars that had formed from his self-mutilation. Everyone had thought that he was okay, that he had moved on from the death like a man would. The truth was, he had fallen, just like the rest of the human race. He needed to be alone after such an ordeal- but, then again, he didn't. He sliced his wrists open more times than he could count, and it had been Hermione who had walked in on him and found out about it.

It was her who he owed his life to.

_I don't want to be the one_

_The battles away choose_

_Cause inside I realize_

_That I'm the one confused_

Why did it always seem that every single trouble in the world resting upon only his shoulders? Why was it him that needed to save the world from the 'bad guys' that taint the innocence most are still sure to have?

Nothing made sense to him. The prophecy foretold that it would be him to kill this century's most evil villain, but why did it have to weigh on HIS shoulders? Why not some other bloke? Like Neville, maybe?

_I don't know what's worth fighting for_

_Or why I shave to scream_

_I don't know why I instigate_

_And say what I don't mean_

_I don't know how I got this way_

_I'll never be alright_

This song was right about all of those things. He had nothing worth fighting for-

Expect Hermione.

He had no idea why he had to be so angry and scream at anyone and everyone who crossed the invisible line, but he was and did.

But he also always found a way to calm down when she was around him. He felt stupid for hurting everyone the way he did, especially treating her that way and would only tend to apologize to her if he felt any kind of regret or guilt at her.

Harry could only wonder how she was the remedy to all of his problems- whether it be mental or physical, she was always there to heal him. He was never really going to be okay, but it was her that could heal about almost all of his wounds, just by being around his torn and beaten existance.

_So I'm breaking the habit_

_Tonight_

Silently, the young woman who had only been on his mind mere second before entered his room through the restroom. He acknowledged her presence by turning towards her, offering her a small smile and a slightly gleeful gaze corrupting his pits of despair. Neither spoke. Instead, they embraced one another, Hermione wishing deep within that she could take all the pain he felt away from him. She was unable to, there being no magic or drug in the world that could make him forget of the horrible duty that rested solely on his shoulders.

If only she knew what the prophecy had said! Then, she might've been able to help him. There was a way- there always was- but she had no idea what it was that could save her best friend's life.

_Clutching my cure_

_I tightly lock the door_

_I try to catch my breath again_

_I hurt much more_

_Than any time before_

_I have no options left again_

His love, his cure, was right there, nestled in his arms and chest, looking as docile as a kitten would beside a fireplace. If only he could do something to make her understand that he wanted her right there forever and a day! He wanted nothing more than to hold her tight for the rest of his life.

It hurt to know that she was going to bare Ron's child and not his. His heart would break every time he would look at the small bulge.

But it would only mend at the sight of her bright grin, at her sparkling eyes, and at how motherly she seemed to become.

He wished that he could do something, anything, to make her see that she was loved, more than a friend. She had been shown otherwise by both Ron and her parents. Harry only wanted to show her differently.

_I don't want to be the one_

_The battles always choose_

_Cause inside I realize_

_That I'm the one confused_

_I don't know what's worth fighting for_

_Or why I have to scream_

_I don't know why I instigate_

_And say what I don't mean_

_I don't know how I got this way_

_I know it's not alright_

_So I'm breaking the habit tonight_

"'Mione?" he questioned aloud as he held her close to him.

_I'll paint it on the walls_

"Yeah, Harry?" She looked up at him, hope filling her eyes. Maybe he would finally open up to her after all this time with his godfather's death.

_Cause I'm the one at fault_

He opened his mouth, trying to force the words out from his lungs and straight to the intoxicating woman in his arms. All he wanted to do was tell her the emotions that raged angrily inside of him every time his eyes laid upon her, that his heart would speed up it's usually calm tempo every time he thought that he was breathing the same air as her.

_I'll never fight again_

The words never made it out from his lips. Instead, afraid that she would assume something wrong, he spoke the first words that had entered his mind. "Thank you."

_And this is how it ends_

She hugged tighter to him, as if scared that he'd disappear if she'd let go. "You're welcome."

_I don't know what worth fighting for_

_Or why I have to scream_

_But now I have some clarity_

_To show you what I mean_

The emerald eyed teenager tightened his own embrace around her. Once again, he forced the words to form, hoping that this time they'd retreat from their hiding place inside of himself.

He'd felt this way for what seemed like eons. Now was as good as time as any to tell her the truth.

_I don't know how I got this way_

_I know it's not alright_

_So I'm breaking the habit_

_Breaking the habit_

_I'm breaking the habit tonight_

Once again, the wrong words seemed to be the only things that could exit his mouth. "I hope it's just like you. It'd be like a blessing to the world."

She unconsciously nestled into his chest as she hugged him tightly, smelling in his seemingly intoxicating scent of grass, broom polish, and… something else that she really couldn't place as anything but the smell of Harry. Why did she think he smelled like that? She didn't know but, right now, she didn't really care. "Thank you, Harry. I'm glad to have you as a friend."

He sighed, thinking the words he couldn't say. _"I love you…"_

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_AN: Here ya go! Chapter two all ready to go. I finished it early, just for you readers out there that told me to finish or my head would be on a platter, next to Marie Antoinette. Lol. Anyway… Any ideas what I can write next? I'm running out of ideas, although I do have this one that I'll most likely use for Chapter Three._


	3. Midnight Comfort

_orokid: yeah… chapter three… what can I say about this? Um… it's done and it is just normal fluff that means absolutely nothing to the story at all- its mostly just to keep me focused and change from one night to the next morning (which I kinda have planned). Yeah… Anyway…_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters in it. At all. ((cries))_

_**Chapter Three**_

The wind whispered softly through the trees of Godric's Hollow and told of endings that could not be deciphered as of yet by the human ear. Still, Harry was doing his best to figure out their words while he lay in bed, gazing up at the ceiling, watching the shadows try and overcome the moonlight.

It was obvious that he had done this for nights on end, his face showing his sleeplessness now more so than ever. But why? Maybe it was the fact that Voldemort was coming, and that death seemed to be his only option at this time. Or that the final battle would come, and his friend and acquaintances could die, and it would be his entire fault if they did.

Or maybe it was because the girl he fancied was in the room connected with his, living in the same vicinity as him, pregnant with Harry's best mate's child.

Maybe.

It may not have been the best time to be a teenager and have death looming over you constantly, but his hormones weren't on the same plain of existence as his mind was. His mind was always on the verge of a breakdown, thinking that everyone he cared about would be the next ones to die, and that he'd follow right after them. His hormones rather dealed with matters that concerned his heart (mainly) and were the reason he wished to snog the young woman in next room down endlessly. Those ruddy things also made him want to love her, and hope that the baby within her was not Ron's but his.

But that seemed unlikely, so a third thing- his gentlemanness- had caused the two to clash, causing the situation he was in now.

A knock caused his attention to waver, and his eyes moved to look at the bathroom they shared with one another. It had been soft, so he hadn't been sure if it had been real or a figment of his imagination.

"Harry?" her voice seemed even louder than the knock, albeit softly, but he was thankful for the volume anyway. He wasn't going crazy. "You up?"

"Like always," he told her, not bothering to whisper as she had, his emerald orbs focused (as much as they could be while his glasses laid unused on the bedside table) upon the door. Slowly, it creaked open, an unsure woman making her way inside. Harry looked her over, not bothering to place his wire framed sight helpers on, the blur an okay thing for now.

Even from here, he could see that her child was growing strong inside her.

As a second nature almost, he scooted aside, patting down the spot he had just vacated, giving her a grin that only she's seen upon his face. "No need to say anything. I understand." Her posture relaxed almost entirely, moving over to her best mate, sliding underneath the covers with him.

"Thank you," Hermione told him as his arm wrapped about her waist protectively, her own moving over his. "I'm sorry that I'm like this but-"

"Like I said, there's no need to say anything." He grinned, holding tightly to her, his breath on her skin. Whether she'd admit it or not, she liked this feeling that welled up inside her body, that made her want to explode into fireworks each time his fingers would accidentally touch her skin. She enjoyed how she fit in his arms like this, and how he did his best to get everything she wanted- even that pickled banana in chocolate.

And, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she had begun to fancy the man that was her friend.

But he only did it because he felt sorry for her predicament, and he had wanted to be the kind and caring guy he had always been. It wasn't his fault that her parents had kicked her out of the only home she knew of, and it wasn't his fault that she was too afraid to tell the father of her baby that he would be, indeed, a daddy soon. Everything was of her doing, and yet Harry still welcomed her with open arms.

"Comfy?"

She smiled, feeling her face flush ever so lightly, making her glad that she had her back to him at this time. "Yes. Very much so. Thank you."

The emerald eyed young man only felt his heart grow at her words, his chest warming with love and pride for her. He was glad that she felt at ease enough to go into his room every time she felt sad or lonely, and he'd always be there to wrap his arm around her and hold her until all her problems would go away. It was his duty, though, as both her best friend and the one who secretly loved her. "You're welcome."

Hermione snuggled into his arms, holding back that strange need that was begging her to turn around and kiss him softly. She hoped that he couldn't feel, let alone hear, her heart which was rapping against her ribcage, and her eyes gently closed in futile hopes to calm herself. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Night."

He felt her hand move down from his resting place (which had been his arms) and slid it down to her belly which had grown much in the past month, to where her child laid dormant for now. The young man could feel his anger and frustration rise within his body, although he did do his best so not to tense up. She didn't need to know that he was jealous of Ron, that he wished that the being that laid inside her, unborn, was his and his alone.

She didn't need to know that Harry James Potter was in love with her.

"Harry?" she asked softly some moments later, calling out to him once more, and he stirred in response. It was his silent way of telling her that he was still awake and willing to listen to what she had to say. "Do you… Do you think he'll ever talk to me again?"

It figured, he thought. He was thinking about the woman in his arms and she was thinking about the boy who had broken her heart and left her alone to have his offspring. Why couldn't she have thought about him like he did her instead? "I don't know, 'Mione," the raven haired wizard whispered softly into her ear, keeping (although having no idea how he had done it) the malice from his voice.

Did he know how his breath sent shivers down her spine when he did that?

"But…" He had continued speaking, which had brought her back down to Earth, back into the arms she enjoyed being in than anywhere else. "If I were Ron… I'd have asked for you back months ago." He blushed lightly as he could feel her shift her body over, probably preparing to give him an inquisitive look- the one that he had grown to love and then some over all these years. "I mean, if I had truly loved you, I wouldn't want you moving in with my other best mate, right?" He gave a nervous laugh, and she moved back into his embrace.

Still, he could feel about the comment he had made.

So, to escape a horrible ending that he knew might come sooner than he had hoped, he did the only thing that could take him from the future nightmare of getting asked about his infamous feelings. He… fell asleep. It had become something he had gotten good at after all of his years as an insomniac.

And he didn't hear the one thing that would've made his whole lifetime better.

"What if… I don't want him to, Harry? What if I… like being here?" She gulped down her nervous spit, taking in a breath and getting ready for something that could end up disasterous. "What if… I've… _fallen_ for you, Harry?"

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orokid: yeah… that sucks. But everything I write does, so I'm getting used to it. I figured that everyone was beginning to get pissed that I haven't continued this yet after so long so… here you are! Lol.

PLEASE REVIEW! ((I know you want to…))


	4. Anger

_orokid: okay… I'm not as much as a flake on this story like I am on my other ones (**cough cough**- Gundam Wing:Reborn- **cough cough**) but I had actually kinda planned this for the third chapter- not the fourth. Anyway… I'm sure you're tired of hearing me spew about my horrible concoctions, but… eh… whatever…_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters in it. At all. I wish I did though… (cries)_

_**Chapter Four**_

Harry held his coffee cup lazily in his hand, his body exhausted and his eyes threatening to droop until they would close. He wouldn't admit as to why he felt this way, but anyone who had eyes could tell that it had to be something that dealed with the bushy haired beauty who had slept in his arms the night before.

He rubbed his sleepy eyes, trying hard to wake himself up. He hated how she was a blessing and a curse to him, although she was up against many of his own adventures with insomnia. But he loved how she could make him burn with a passion no one knew he had within his lean body, how she could give him that poor and pathetic look only to turn around his opinion to suit hers, how she'd be shy when she needed protective arms to surround her in the middle of the night and sleep in his embrace until one of the other rolled out of bed.

And, like usual, Harry was lazily staring down at the deep rich brown color of his coffee, only to be reminded of what he had left upstairs and made him want to return to her again- if only to watch her as she breathed in and out. That, in itself, was able to make any day better, for that was just what she did.

He loved her for it.

Yes, that's right. He loved her. He didn't know when he had started to, but he never wanted it to end. That's all he knew and understood, and he was fine with that.

The part that irritated him the most was that she'd never feel the same for him, that her heart didn't hurt every time she saw him because her feelings hadn't been told to the one she adores. His hurt. It ached, knowing that all he was and could ever be was an embrace for the lonely and left behind, and that nothing could ever become beyond that. There wasn't anything for him and his love interest past being her best mate.

Harry wanted so much more than that…

Flipping the brand new Daily Prophet over and sighing, he began the tradition of finding a flat they could rent or buy together, like he always did when he didn't trudge upstairs to join the object of his affections. He ignored the front page, saving that for when he'd actually have given up on his search for the perfect flat.

It didn't take him very long, and Harry was starting to think that there was no such thing as perfect when it came to a material thing like that. Still, he wouldn't give up, but rather wait until tomorrow to continue such a routine thing. Was a three bedroom, two bathroom, medium sized kitchen, medium sized common room such a horrible thing to put on sale in London? Considering how he couldn't find it, he assumed that it must have been.

Right then, he was thinking that he should just get one built instead. It would be easier to deal with, although he knew that he wouldn't ever spend more money than what was currently in the Weasley account.

Harry couldn't stop himself for mentally spitting at the name, remembering the one who had hurt and left the angel who had fallen from grace. It had left the spawn of Hades himself to catch her and care for her wings, and he'd hope beyond hope that she'd follow him back into the underworld like a forgotten and loving puppy. A minion of Hell cannot and will not coax one of the beautiful ones into the lonely pits he called home.

As much as she'd tell him differently, he knew exactly where he belonged- and it wasn't on Earth or in the heavens.

Something slammed into the doors over and over again suddenly, and the emerald eyed youth found his arm reflexively reaching for the wand that had been hastily placed into his pocket that morning. Grumbling, he cast a silencing charm upon the entire bottom floor, hoping not to wake Hermione earlier than she needed to be awoken, and moved to the front door where the disturbance was taking place.

And he smiled briefly at the red-headed young man who was at the door, hoping that there was an apology waiting for the angel upstairs. This sight seemed to brighten his morning, and he pocketed his wand, hopeful for the happiness of the love of his life. He widely opened the door-

Only to be hit square in the face with a force that he hadn't known his friend to ever have within him.

The Boy-Who-Lived found himself lying on the floor, his glasses sliding across the opening hallway (and he assumed they were broken, thinking of the force he had been hit with). He felt something metallic tasting sliding down the back of his throat, and red streams flowing down from his nose. His face throbbed in pain as his fingers wrapped around the bleeding object, the sticky red substance flowing through his hands like nothing, and he shifted his weight around so he might be able to get up-

But a foot rammed into his side, pushing him down to the floor again.

"How do you like it, you bloody prick!" the red haired boy shouted in anger, his entire body shaking as he stared down at the young man with raven hair and emerald eyes. Harry only stared, nearly blind, up at the blurry form of the man who was supposed to be his friend, confused as to why the boy he once knew so well was being so violent. "How **_dare_** you take her from me, you bloody arse! How **_DARE_** you!" The toe of his sneaker slammed into Harry's chest repeatedly, and Harry could only gasp in pain with each strike.

"What're you- GAH!- doing Ron! I'm your friend!" It was a futile attept, he could admit now, considering that he should've understood why his male best mate was beating him senseless. In fact, those words had only caused him to pound harder, kicking in his side again and again, faster than before. It was like he was trying to kill him! "Stop it! Stop it, Ron!" He heard something crack, and then something else, and the raven haired young man was sure that his ribs had been broken in two with all the pain that swam through his system right then. If this continued, he knew that he would eventually die at the hands of a boy he once cared for like a brother.

And then… it all stopped.

He hadn't known what had happened, but he was thankful for whatever or whoever it was. Ron had fallen back, his entire body seemingly petrified while his eyes still glared at him angrily. But… it seemed as though his red-headed new enemy was focusing upon Harry's savior with the same malicious glint in his crystal-like eyes.

It was then that he felt the soft hands of his angel, his protector, resting upon his shoulder and cheek. Her chocolate eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and he felt his heart break as he looked straight into them with his fuzzy vision. "I-I'll go call Ginny and tell her what happened. You stay still and I… I'll go alert Saint Mungo's of your condition."

"N-No…" he whispered softly, looking up to her with his own damp sparkling green eyes. He felt so weak now, after the entire struggle he had put up with the male that laid not too far away from them. "I'll do it. You and-" He coughed, pain flowing throughout his broken and bruised body, and Hermione looked down at his lips in fear. It was obvious to her that Ronald's assault had broken bones and ripped through organs Harry most certainly needed, and she knew that only by the thin trail of blood that flowed from his lips after he had coughed. "You and the baby-"

"Harry!" she demanded, watching him in the eye with both dread and the look she normally gave him before homework was due (and when his work was incompletely)- the 'you-better-pay-attention' look. "If you keep talking, more damage will be done, and- and-" She couldn't tell him that she wouldn't forgive herself if he died, his final act protecting both her and her unborn child from the stress her ex-boyfriend and the father of his baby was bringing into her life. She couldn't say that she hated how broken he looked right then, yet how beautiful as well, trying to smile through the grimace. She couldn't tell him that… that she was beginning to feel for her raven haired best mate as she had for the red-head who still laid paralyzed across from them.

Hermione's hands moved to take the weak palm of her friend, and she could only give him a teary smile. "I think… I think we should get you to Saint Mungo's now instead of later, Harry…"

"No, no. I'm… fine." He tried to laugh, but only ended up coughing once again, blood dripping from his lips, his face paling with every drip to the glossy wooden floors. He was scaring her, and evern more so when he reached up to touch her cheek with his bloodstained fingertips that seemed electrified as well. What was he doing? Why was he wasting his precious energy on a meaningless task of touching her? Why was he-

"I… I love… you…" With that, his hand fell from her face to the floor with a thud, his head lulling to the side while his eyes closed.

"Harry?" she whispered softly, staring at the young male with wide chocolate saucers, his blood across her cheek like war paint for the Native American Indians. She tenderly reached over to his shoulders and gently shook him, and, when he didn't respond, shook him harder. "Harry!"

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orokid: DUHN DUHN DUUUUUH! And… once again, it sucks. Thank you very much for reading, and don't worry too much about our poor little Harry. By the way, I am not done with this fic yet! It'll be a while until this is actually done.

But… is Harry going to live to the next chapter!

Other than that…

PLEASE REVIEW! ((I know you want to do it…))


	5. The Reason

_orokid: Hey. Its me again. I understand that I have reviewers who wonder why Ron would be going insane on Harry's ass, and I'll make it seem a little more plausible in this chapter. Okay? I know it was kind of weird that Ron, who was supposed to be the best friend and was SUPPOSED to be okay until he found out, but there is a good reason! Really! I swear!_

_Anyway… Let me actually write it out so you can understand why Ron was uber pissed._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters in it. At all. I wish I did though… (cries)_

_**Chapter Five**_

Hermione watched his unconscious form across the room, the entire place beeping while no muggle machines were present. It seemed as though they held onto similar ideas, the girl noticed, but without all the equipment. As understandable as it was, sort of, she kept feeling like she was sitting in this hospital room, holding on for her own dear life instead of his. She couldn't help but wonder why this was happening, why she felt like she was the one dying instead of him, yet he was the only thing she could worry about now.

Maybe this was what people meant when you fall in love with someone.

She shook her head, trying not to assume that initial thought all at once. But… didn't he tell her that? Didn't he say that he loved her? 'In a friend way,' she'd tell herself, hoping with her mind that it was true, that he didn't feel like that and was nothing but a true friend. Yet… her heart only hoped differently. She wanted him to love her like that.

She heard the door open, but she didn't turn to see who it was. Her attention was only to be on the man who lay in that bed, fighting for life and willing to lived- or she hoped he was, at least. Her assumptions we that it was a medi-wizard, checking upon the patient whose life hung between the thin stands of life or death, but, when they spoke, pulling her from her sorrowful reverie, she understood that she was wrong.

"How is he?" the girl's voice questioned softly, and there was a tremor of fear and anxiety in her voice that the bushy haired young woman noticed immediately.

It was Ginny Weasley.

It was the sister to the man who had hurt Hermione's Harry.

"They're hoping that he'll pull through to the morning. They say there's a good chance he'll live if he does." Slowly, the chocolate eyed woman turned to look at the girl, noticing that her red hair was in disarray and her crystal blue eyes blotchy and her face tearstained.

This was the girl who deserved Harry, who loved him before she did. This was the one who could only have the Boy-Who-Lived in ways Hermione didn't even think about until recently, when he showed kindness when no one else would. Ginny DESERVED Harry.

And she did not.

"Hermione… um…" The girl was hesitant, and Hermione found herself gazing at the newspaper in Ginny's hand with interest. As far as she could tell, the title had something to do with the boy who laid unknowing of the world around him. "Is it true about you and… and Harry?"

"Me and Harry?" she asked, having no idea what the girl was talking about. Still, she couldn't stop her face from letting show the blush upon her cheeks. "What about us?" Again, the red headed woman shuffled her feet, avoiding her friends' eyes like they were going to lead her into her own destruction. "Does… Does it have anything to do with the Daily Prophet that you're holding?"

Immediately, Ginny looked up to gaze at Hermione, surprised by those words, none the less, but seemingly thankful and a bit more relaxed by the news. "You've seen it then?" When the cinnamon haired young woman shook her head no, the girl seemed to once more retain those features, lowering her eyes from hers again. "Well… I suggest you should then …" she said softly, nervously, reaching towards Hermione with the paper in hand.

Flattening the paper onto her bulge, she began to read, preparing herself for the worst…

_**POTTER'S SECRET AFFAIR!**_

_**By Rita Skeeter**_

_**In the early morning light of last Tuesday morning, this reporter had been working diligently as a restaurant critic. It was by my surprise to see the infamous Harry Potter walking among the streets like the living dead had risen, his pace quick and his eyes more determined than they were when the young wizard found himself in the Tri-Wizard tournament the year before.**_

**_And, to my surprise, all he had done was buy some peanut butter and celery at a local muggle grocery store, called Food-That's-Less or something of the sort. To find why Potter had rushed himself into the store as he did, I followed him out to the home of the formerly convicted criminal Sirius Black, young Potter's godfather whom had been taken away from him as his parents had. The memory of his tears during our sort time together while we spoke one-on-one before the first tournament makes be become even sadder, thinking about all the pain this boy has gone through._**

_**But what I had found interesting, while I watched him return to his home away from home, was that a certain muggle-born witch, who had pronounced their relationship as nothing but friends, had come out to meet him at the door. Another thing I noticed was that she didn't seem to be alone in that home any more, for the girl has a new little plaything- and it has yet to be born!**_

_**Yes, that's right, folks. I am sad to admit that, like every other teenager filled with hormones, the Boy-Who-Lived and his girlfriend have fallen into the percentage of teenaged pregnancy.**_

**_Cho Chang, Potter's ex, spoke to me with tears in her eyes, remembering the passionate times she and her former beau had shared together. "I always assumed that he and Miss Granger had something going on, but I didn't want to believe it", Chang tells with a quiver in her voice. "Finally, I… I couldn't take it anymore. He and I were at a fancy, romantic restaurant and… and all he could talk about was HER." Unfortunately, Miss Chang had erupted in tears and couldn't continue her tale any longer._**

"_**I always thought that Granger and Potter were doing something", Draco Malfoy, the wealthy and sophisticated teenager with a heart filled with worry for his classmates. "They'd disappear from class, saying that they had to save the world or something, and then end up missing for hours on end. Potter was in tears when the basalisk made his 'friend' turn to stone, and I see why now. It is unfortunate about the child, being born into a family of liars and cheats, and I pray for it's well-being and for it's good future."**_

_**MORE ON PAGE H-4, "Boy-Who-Lived- Next Generation"**_

Hermione stared down at the article in awe, wondering why, after all the things Harry's gone through his life, they had to think that Hermione's baby was his. It wasn't! Her baby was HERS, and… and…

And she wished that it was his, and not Ron's, who was currently trying to cool off back home with his mother and father keeping a good eye on him. The last thing that needs to happen is for Ronald to appear and finish the job. Whether he was angry or not, Harry was their only hope for salvation from Voldemort himself, so death just wasn't an option for this world, let alone Harry.

"What the...?" she whispered softly, her hands tightening on the paper, wanting to rip it to pieces. Rubbish like this was supposed to be in the rubbish bin, not on the front page of the Daily Prophet. And didn't Hermione threaten that witch to stop writing falsified stories about her and the boy who was hanging onto life at that exact moment? "So… this is what set him off?" Obviously, she was referring to the third and former member of the trio.

Nervously, as if expecting to be hit with a hex or something of the sort, Ginny nodded, gulping down her anxiety the best she could. "Yes. Ron… Well, he saw that this morning and… well… You were there, right?"

Hermione nodded, sighing, turning back to look to the emerald eyed young man who had nearly given his life for her, for a baby that wasn't even his. And… "He said he loved me…" she said, not sure how to word it as she told herself those words, forgetting that Ginny was in the room.

"Who did? Ron?" the red head cautiously asked her, her voice showing that she was indeed curious as well.

With another sigh, Hermione looked to the girl, confusion more than curiosity in her eyes. "No. Harry."

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_orokid: So yeah… I tried to write it better than usual, and to add the twist of Hermione realizing that her feelings for Harry were deeper than friendship, and also feeling that he deserved someone much better. Also, this too was supposed to go into the last chapter (the news article), but I just forgot about it. I apologize. Will you forgive me? Please! I BEG OF YOU! ((Cries))_


	6. Waking Hours

_orokid: Hey, sorry that I haven't posted lately in this fanfic. I haven't really had the time to continue it, and my Writer's Block hasn't budged. Most of this chapter will most likely be fluff, so… I don't know, really. Also, I'm getting ready for my summer trip to Florida (although that doesn't really explain my prior absence), so I'm really busy right now. Sorry about that again. And I suppose I should say where my whereabouts were during this whole time- it started with midterms, and now I have Finals, and then I was actually trying to do my homework and skip my insomnia completely… Yeah. A whole bunch of stuff, really, so... Lol. Okay! Disclaimer time!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything to do with the whole entire endorsement thingy. I wish I did though, because then I would actually have some cash in my pocket…_

_**Chapter Six**_

Hermione didn't know what to say to him that morning when he opened his eyelids for the first time in two weeks. Sure, he had twisted and turn, as well as mumbled while in his deep sleep, but he didn't know about anything that was occurring around him. As far as he knew, the world was still at peace, and his friends were still willing to talk to him.

Well, Ginny was at least. Ron hadn't been around at all yet, and it didn't seem as though he would ever be either. But the fact that he wasn't talking to Harry, his former best mate who had the heart of a hero beating within his (current) frail yet muscular chest, bothered her the most, but she couldn't do a thing about it. Harry knew exactly what he was doing when he had forced her into his home, forced her to take his offers, but…

She wished that she hadn't ever done anything like take his advice, and seeing his emeralds flutter open at that moment made her hate herself even more.

His fingers reached up slowly, touching her cheek with such a gentle touch that you would have believed a feather to have passed by rather than human flesh. She smiled gently, feeling the pain and self hatred hit her even harder as he only smiled back. Of course he didn't blame her for what he was going through, but… she wished he did. She wished that he could let go of his foolish and unbecoming lack of anger towards her and blame her for almost dying, for scarcely being able to breathe throughout these past nights, days, weeks…

Tears slowly streamed down her face, her heart breaking at his weak state, and her will to not grab hold of him and hold him as lovingly and tightly as she could had lost it's battle. He had been surprised by her quick moments, and a little confused as to why she was crying as she was, but he didn't say a word to her about it. Something was upsetting her, and, as a friend and the man who loved her, he was more than willing just to let her cry on his should and use him as support during tough times.

"You're okay," she sobbed into his shoulder, a soft chuckle coming from her lips as she did so. Her hands were still holding onto his body as firmly as a child would their father after a nightmare, but it wasn't as if he knew the feeling. It was merely an assumption that it probably felt that way. "You're okay, right?" she asked softly, crying a bit harder into his unclothed chest, having little to no clue that he was nearly naked beneath that hospital sheet. Then again, he barely did as well. "This… this isn't some cruel joke my psyche is playing on me, right?"

She felt the vibrations of his chuckles as she held onto him, her mind fixing up his smile without having to look up at it. It captivated her now, after all this time without it in her sights, but she had to keep those affections a secret until another day, when he was better than alright, and when his world didn't seem to crumble around him because of her and her predicaments.

"Yes… I'm fine, Hermione. You know that… I'm too strong to just be… killed… like that." Once more, he laughed, but could only manage a weak attempt at it. His voice, so soft and caring, yet sounding so weak and human- muggle, really- only made her erupt in sobs yet again.

The Boy-Who-Lived seemed to be at a loss, but he didn't say a word about it, for he enjoyed her touch surrounding him instead of the other way around, like it had been those nights he held onto her. They seemed so far away now, when all seemed lost to him, and when his memory of the recent events in his life had been put to a minor stop (since the major one usually resulted in total death), leaving him unknowing of everything really.

"Sh- She… She won't-" Hiccupping, her tears lost the rest of the sentence she tried to speak, leaving Harry even more lost. Still… he'd wait and listen, and he'd hold her all the while, rubbing those gentle circles into her back with the palm of his hand. His arms were made for holding only her, so it seemed natural to keep her within his grasp like he was. "Sh-She won't c-come b-back. It's m-my fault."

"Your fault?" the raven haired boy questioned, cocking his head to one side ever so slightly, not understanding her at all at that exact moment. It was more than obvious why, since he hadn't heard her state a name about who her words were about. "What do you mean, 'Mione? Who?"

"G-Ginny." His mind found itself at ease almost immediately, thinking that maybe she had lost her baby (a girl, maybe) while he had lain unconscious. He should have known better, considering the fact that there was this strange thumping feeling against his abdomen every now and then, but he had let worry overcome his logical brain- like it usually did when this particular woman was involved.

And… he did what she believed would be his last action. He laughed.

Looking up at him, possibly as though he had an extra head upon his shoulders (and some medicines, if not properly administered, could've done it to!), she raised an eyebrow at his action. What was he doing? Didn't he care that the girl who he could turn to the most after she left and never contacted him again (because she felt as though she had used him too much already and didn't want to further complicate things with permanently moving in with him) wasn't going to speak to him? Didn't he care that his former best mate's sister loved him with all her heart, and yet she was just walking out of it like nothing would ever happen? Didn't he-

Hermione Granger's thoughts- which never really stopped at all, for no reason to ever be given- had been halted almost immediately when she felt something press against her lips, the owner of those sweet yet tasty objects needing to taste them or something of the sort. Personally, she didn't mind it at all (thus causing her to press back into him), considering how she had been fighting with herself over these past two weeks on whether she should tell him about those strange emotions erupting through her every being whenever he was around. Now, really, she didn't have to do a thing but enjoy the one who made her heart flutter in a way no one had ever done before. The bushy haired young woman felt her heart explode in her chest as she felt him respond further to her own pressures. Her fingers moved behind him, moving into his hair as their kiss only deepened farther, and they would have gone farther but…

A flash occurred in their obscured view, and, by the time they had unhooked from their very interesting position, the one who owned that certain camera was gone. Hermione felt something in the bottom of her stomach pinch her, and she knew that it wasn't the baby. It was the feeling of complete and utter dread settling in- nothing more, and nothing less.

The day after tomorrow would be Hell, and she'd be glad to go home right then.

Before she could excuse herself from his bed, his arms had tightened and locked around her body, keeping her rooted to her spot in his arms. Her chocolate colored eyes had been wide in surprise, but it disappeared almost entirely as he held her against him, his heartbeat lulling her into a peaceful mood. She could have sworn that, if he had not spoken soon, that she would've found total peace there in his embrace.

"I love you," he whispered softly, kissing the tip of her head as she laid against him, his lips curved in a smile. "I… I had a horrible dream about you and… and the baby-" She watched him softly, realizing that he had said 'the baby' and not 'your baby' or 'Ron's kid' or anything like that. "- and I thought… The dream kept going and- and- and I thought that… that if I told you about…" He chuckled nervously, knowing that she had to have a good idea about what he was trying to say to her- which she did. "And…" He smiled, leaning down farther into her body, his lean and muscular figure holding to her as though she were a newborn child herself, his face in the nape of her neck, merely breathing in her scent. "And I love you, Hermione. I… I think I always have too."

She looked up to him too, a soft and knowing smile upon her lips as she watched him now, loving that smile upon his lips, which only turn the other way when she says something funny or just smiles towards him really. Leaning in closer now, her own face lost within the region of his stiff yet relaxed neck, taking in his scent and whispering the words she thought she'd never have the chance to say in her entire lifetime. Never once had she said them to Ronald, although she WAS pregnant with his child, and she had promised to never say it unless she had truly meant it. Now was one of those time, no matter what the world would think of her now. "I love you too. So much, Harry. More than I thought I did."

And they kept on holding, ignoring the world as it passed by them, knowing of the coming events only to a certain shade of black. Neither of them knew just what was really coming for them…

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_orokid: Heh heh… that's not really that good since I never get it Beta-ed and I only wrote this in an hour and a half. It's not that long, but… yeah. Whatever. I give up- but not on this story. Just so you know, I don't exactly know what I'm doing next, but I do have a sorta-kinda idea about what's going to happen. I gave you guys the ideas of mine in this fic, sorta, so just trust me now._

_PS- Help me! I need suggestions! Tell me in your reviews, if you would._


	7. Forever

**orokid**_: Hey! Wanted to get the next chapter out quick, before I leave on vacation- so don't stop reading this! Please? Please! ((Bows at your feet and grovels)) I beg of you! ((Shifts eyes, laughs nervously and gets up)) Uh… I didn't do that…_

_ANYWAY! Lol._

_I was bored out of my mind really, and I just thought that maybe you guys would like another chapter or something. So… yeah. That's the whole real reason I began to write this. Lol._

**Disclaimer**_: I do not own Harry Potter or anything that has to do with him. I'd like to, but where in the name of Hell would that get me? And, besides, I would be Pumpkin Pie all the way, and not this whole "love-hate" relationship JK Rowling's trying to do… ((Grumble, grumble, growl)) Heh heh… back to what I was saying…_

_I should start writing now, huh?_

Chapter Seven

The world seemed to go slower that usual for Harry and Hermione that following morning, and Harry, who seemed used to this, knew exactly what was occurring outside of the walls of Saint Mungo's. All around them, despite the fact that the blinds had been folded and closed around them, causing the outside world seem black and unknowing of what was within, he could hear cameras, clicking with hopes that the curtains would sway just a moment to see the couple who had, so obviously, graced the front page of the Daily Prophet.

And he had know that only because it had been delivered to his hospital door that morning, when the country of England was just getting out of their, excuse the American slang, 'jammies' and of bed. Of course he had been up, since he had become a man who fell asleep without him forcing himself to was less often than a phoenix would explode in flames, recreating itself into a new bird. And, considering that the occurrence of that happening every once in a blue moon, it was very often he found himself awake. Besides, the night before had been the first time he and his beloved- the girl who was pregnant with someone else's child (and to love that was amazing in itself, since people usually try not to fall in love with pregnant people)- fell asleep in his hospital bed together, her snuggling into him and quite possibly having the best sleep in her life, from what he figured since she didn't want to move off him when the paper had been scooted under the door. He had to use that 'accio' charm that she had taught him the year before, and to catch it without her waking had been a troublesome time in itself.

Somehow, he had accomplished his mission and she still lay fast asleep beside him, dreaming of dreams he was hopeful to be a part of. It didn't really matter, to tell the truth, but he would've liked to be a piece of her own dreams since she so often found her way in his own. It had been surprising just what he had found in the papers that morning, when he had fully opened up the magazine stylized newspaper, looking at the front page with wide eyes.

There he was, kissing Hermione so softly that any claim, no matter how wrong it was, seemed to be right. To the public, he was her child's father, and, to tell the truth, he wanted to be more than anything, but… there was that little fact where it had been Ron's violation, and that he was her baby's parent- not Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Not Harry Potter, the man who wanted to be it's father.

Slowly, his eyes got to reading, his bottom lip bitten in frustration and nervousness.

**THE TRUTH IS OUT!**

**By Rita Skeeter**

**The infamous Boy-Who-Lived, who hasn't publicly stated whether or not the child of his said best mate (possibly girlfriend, and I only say this because I do not wish to get into further trouble with the Potter boy), has now given away his secret. Although he has sworn not to say anything that should truly be told to the public of the wizarding world, it is more than truthfully shown in the picture above.**

Harry personally did not want to look at the picture again, but it was there. He and his best mate (well, Rita was right in this case, since she had just become his girlfriend the night before), Hermione, were looking back towards the camera, looking towards the one who had taken the picture with shock. Now, they seemed to be covering their faces, although the damage seemed to be done. Their faces had already been seen, and the world had seen them kiss each other so sweetly that it seemed as if nothing mattered other than each other.

And, at the time, nothing else seemed to matter than the one he loved that had been in his arms.

Continuing to read, he readied himself for a worse outcome.

**I know that you, the people of this fine world we had created separate from the muggle world, are probably wondering just why this secret has been kept from us. Well, I believe that Mister Potter, no matter how he is feeling, seemingly safe in his hospital bed, he will get visited by yours truly for the scoop of the century. It is my own promise.**

**But… why did the couple feel that they must keep this a secret from us? It is true that I, Rita, had seen them in the same home, possibly living together, but I do admit now (for insurance purposes) that I did not know for sure. But now I do, and I ask for answers, much like you people do. Is it because they're afraid for their child's welfare, due to the attacks You-Know-Who has planned on Harry since he was but a child himself? Is it because he feels that he does not want to publicly say that it is his own, when it so obviously is? Is it…**

The article continued, but it seemed to be just a series of questions meant for him, and all of them he did not wish to answer. Why should he? It isn't the public's decision, even if the baby within Hermione's womb was of his blood as well, whether or not he should share it with the world. If it was his, then… then…

But… it wasn't his, so he shouldn't be saying those 'what if's that he seemed to have fallen in love with so easily, much like with the woman he indeed cared for so deeply. He had to focus, and he had to figure out how to get her out of the building without stressing her out enough that it would harm her child.

His one arm reached over after placing down the paper, rubbing her stomach gently, holding her closer. He loved them both, although only the one belonged to him- and that was only for the time being. She did not TRULY belong to him, and he doubted that she ever really would because she had such a free spirit- but that was why he loved her. Even if she decided that they really didn't work out, and that they needed to be apart more often because she didn't want her child thinking of him as someone who he or she needed in their life- like a father figure or something of the sort.

Still… if that was what she wanted him to be- a father figure towards her child- and wanted nothing of him other than to take care of her and her baby… well, he would be a heartbroken fool, sure, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't really do it. He would still be there, long after she had decided to hate him with all her worth and thought nothing about him. He'd still care for her.

He'd always love her.

Hermione stirred in his arms, mumbling something that he could barely understand, but he merely smiled and held her closer, gently pecking at her neck. She looked so beautiful… And she surely couldn't have been pretending that kiss, for he could taste her love for him, and he could see the love she felt for him in her eyes when she had smiled devilishly at the question of whether or not they'd still be together after the baby was born. And heart still couldn't help but pound at the remembrance of her words still, and how she had tapped his nose lightly before snuggling against him and sleeping.

"Forever."

With a smile, he leaned over slowly, once more placing a gently kiss upon the skin of her silky neck. She was so beautiful when she slept, and he felt more than lucky to have her in his arms like she was. Every moment that passed by them, he would only find yet another reason to love her.

"I love you", he whispered softly into her ear, settling in down next to her, breathing in the intoxicating scent she alone could have. His heart burned for her as she turned over onto her other side, her arm overlapping his chest and laying across him like nothing. Sure, her bulge sure complicated the holding method, but he did not wish to move her, since she seemed too breathtaking at that moment.

"I love you." The whisper once more came from his lips, and a larger grin found it's way upon his thin lips. "I'll always love you. And I'll always be here. Forever."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**orokid**_: yeah, yeah… I know. It's fluff and you hate me for writing it- but I don't care all THAT much. Lol. Hope you review! Thanks for reading, and it'll most likely be another month (or this week, if I'm lucky) that I post the chapter after this. Once again, thank you!_


	8. A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes

**Orokid**_: Personally, I don't really know how I got this ending- I just know that I sat down one night, determined to actually finish one of my friggin' chaptered fanfics, and this is what happened. I hope you guys like it. In parts, you'll hate me. It others, you'll really hate me. Still, reply and tell me what you think, okay? I will love you guys forever!_

**Disclaimer**___ I do not own Harry Potter or anything that has to do with him. Still, if I did own it, it would be Harry and Hermione the whole way! Hell yes! Lol. But I have one more disclaimer to make- Do not kill the author for the ending!_

**Chapter Eight**

_A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes…_

Harry slowly opened his emerald eyes as his need for sleep and good dreams seemed to lessen more and more into nothingness. His dreams filled with such a happiness that one could not describe drowned as his orbs fluttered open to greet the new day, and the young man who had seemed to have lost his will to live after his godfather's death had allowed his surroundings to return to his consciousness once more. Images he had thought to have left behind back at the place he had called home welcomed him with a warmness that only it had.

Once more, Harry Potter was back in that comfortable chair he loved oh so dearly, a book laid across his chest, open and several of the pages folded over due to his poor sleeping habits. Again, he was across from the flaming fireplace where he had once had a conversation with his godfather so long ago, the one that offered both heat and a blanket of warmth that could put any student to sleep.

Yet several things seemed to race through the young hero's mind as he took his time to glance about the room, and none of them seemed to be about sleeping.

How had be gotten back to Hogwarts after he had fallen asleep back at Saint Mungo's? Where was his beloved 'Mione? Why wasn't she right there with him? How was her unborn child? Had Voldemort somehow gotten a hold of his precious love? Why had that nightmare of a man taken them from him now, when he was at his most useless state of being? Was that why he had grabbed them? Because Harry was weak and unreliable as of then and thus couldn't fight back whether his life depended upon it?

Everything within the Boy-Who-Lived seemed only to make him glower at the thought of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named harming Hermione and her baby just because he had a bone to pick with him. It only seemed to show just how much of a coward this villain truly was, and it only made him angrier by the second.

But that still didn't explain why Harry was there on his favorite chair in the place he called home, his potion's book sprawled upon his chest as though he might've been studying (yeah right) rather than searching for a flat or home in which the three of them could share. He had better things to do than study for a course in school that he would rather die a thousand deaths than take for a second time. Well, as long as Severus was to be his professor, he would…

Besides, he had things to do, errands and the such, and he couldn't waste his time with things like schoolwork during the summer. There was a flat (or home) he had to find, a baby's room he had to furnish and paint prior to its actual birth, a woman to keep calm at all times (since he feared her mood swings more than Voldemort himself), a world to protect and save… The seemingly usual things as of now.

Okay, he had to focus right then… Why in the name of Merlin was he back at the school? And why wasn't Hermione there with him? And was his over-active imagination actually right? He didn't know, but he knew better than to allow his heart to explode by his creative mind causing him a heart attack.

Still, the panic was there inside him, and he wouldn't show it until the appropriate time…

"Her-Hermione!" Before he knew it, he was on his feet and racing out of the Gryffindor dormitories, heading for a place he believed he could find her. He hadn't ever known himself to rush through the halls as fast as he had, and it seemed as though others that he went to school with seemed to agree with that thought of his. He slipped and slid as he turned, falling on his face a few times and skidding onto his knees others, but there was only one thought that remained in his mind throughout the entire time- he had to find Hermione and protect her. Whether it was from Voldemort or Ron (although they seemed to be the same person in his books), he just had to protect her.

The first thing he got when the had (accidentally, mind you) slammed the library doors open was many, many eyes and a very loud shushing from Madam Pince, as well as a quiet reprimanding that he wasn't quite paying much attention to. His mind was focused on finding her, finding his beloved 'Mione, and that was all that he was going to do. Couldn't they understand? His emerald orbs gazed about the room, trying to determine who was who amongst the multitude of eyes that he saw. He made sure to look at them all, deciphering them as much as he could as he did his best to focus through the many distractions. Brown, brown, green, blue, grey (bloody bastard never hung out in the library before…), blue, brown, blue, blue, hazel, brown, green-

"Harry!" A loud whisper caught his attention, and he immediately turned to see who had called him. Still, it didn't take him much too long to figure that out since her voice seemed only to haunt him ever so much while he dreamed. The young man made his way over to her, taking her hand (although she had looked at him oddly when he had done so), ignoring Madam Pince completely as she tried to yell at his rude behavior without actually yelling.

The first thing he took to noticing was the fact that there was no lump that he had grown used to rubbing, to pressing his fingers against during the nights when only he was awake. Had Voldemort done something with the child? Anger built up inside the male at the thought, and he felt Hermione's hand offer him a calm reassuring squeeze, and taking in that smile of hers seemed to make everything alright again whether it was or not. That inferno that he had felt seconds ago was only an ember when he was around her, and that wouldn't ever change- she just seemed to have that affect over him.

Still, the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't withhold his joy that at least she was away from the harm he had thought her to be in, and he wrapped her in his strong and loving arms around her, holding her as though she were his last lifeline. "Thank God… you're safe, Hermione. I can't tell you how happy I am that you're safe."

"Harry, what's the matter with you?" she asked him lightly, pushing out of his arms gently so not to hurt his feelings, staring at him as the library seemed to calm somewhat after the commotion he had made. Pulling her hand from his as he reached for it again, she reached for his shoulders and forced him to sit on the nearest chair she could find. "You've been acting oddly. Is…" She looked either way, hoping to see that no one was paying attention to their hushed conversation. "Is Sirius's death really getting to you, Harry? You can talk to me."

He looked at her, dumbfounded, not sure why she was saying such things as of right then. Why wasn't she pregnant? Why were they at school? Why was everyone looking at him like he was insane? And why couldn't he answer any of those questions? "But… you- you're…" His mind slowly began to work through the time since he had awoken minutes upon minutes ago, and he began to piece the puzzle together. Still… it had been too real! It couldn't have been… Right? "Haven't you and Ron been dating behind my back?" he asked dejectedly, just trying to make sense of the entire situation that was at hand.

"God no, Harry!" she exclaimed, probably a bit louder than what one might think was necessary since heads seemed to swivel their way. The bushy haired young woman blushed in embarrassment, hiding herself somewhat from those that had looked by amercing herself into their conversation. "God no, Harry. What would make you think such things? You know that…" She took a side glance at the red haired boy who currently sat with Dean and Ginny, laughing softly about something or another, and he did his best to stifle the smile that had come to his face as a disgusted look came upon hers. "Well, whatever it is, you know about it. I can't stand the thought of winking at him, let alone snogging him. I don't think that there's a bloke I can think about doing that to right now." Hermione looked back at Harry, and her teasing expression once more turned to worry. "Harry, you can talk to me. You know that too."

He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it, figuring that it was better to stay quiet as of then. Who would believe him, the boy who couldn't seem to sleep more than five hours a week? It would only seem ludicrous to her if he even tried to explain it. And his feelings? Those would be too hard to hide from her if he told her the story, and it would be harder yet to pretend that he didn't feel something each time they were together- and so, he shook his head no and smiled. "It was nothing- just… just a dream, Hermione. Don't worry about it."

He rose from his seat, and she didn't stop him from leaving when he stood up to go- it was better that way, and both of them knew it. It was a dream that he had to get over, and he had to understand that she was all she could ever be- not with Ron.

Still…

The young woman sat herself back down in front of the book that she had been reading, flipping it a few more pages before finding herself face to face with a photograph of both she and Harry, months older than they were now, and standing side by side. One hand was around her waist, holding her closely to him, and his other hand was patting her large belly…

With a sigh, Hermione closed the large book that she had bought the year before, sliding it into her bag- what was done was done, and there was no use in thinking of it. He had done so much for her while they had gone through that time, and it was her chance to repay him, and so she had taken it without a second thought, using it that morning before he had woken from his slumber.

As she made her way out of the library, her careful hand had gone up to the small lump beneath her shirt above her breasts, taking hold of it gently so not to trigger it. She could still feel the cold metal of the time-turner device in her hand, despite the layers she wore…

_**FIN**_

**Orokid**_: Like I said earlier, I would really appreciate it if you reply something about this chapter. It is the LAST of this story, so… I would like a little appreciation for finishing, if you would.. I would REALLY like it. Thanks._


	9. Epilogue: Truth of the Untold

**Orokid**_: I merely wrote this chapter because I had been asked to by one of my reviewers. True, I might've been a little PO'ed at the idea that people might not have understood my ending all that well, but I also knew where they were coming from. I hadn't quite made it clear (or understandable) how they had returned to the past, and, when I had reread it (again), I found that I had confused myself at the same time._

_So, reviewers, be proud of me- I wrote an actual chapter in a twenty-four hour time period. I know I already am. Lol._

**Disclaimer**_: Like I have previously stated in every chapter before this, I do not claim ownership to Harry Potter. Those belong to JK Rowling and no one else, and I would dare to dream to take it away from her (yeah right- Harry and Hermione would've been together at the end!!). So, please, do not sue me- I don't even have a bank account so… yeah. Suing isn't that good a thing right now…_

**Epilogue**

_Truth of the Untold_

She hadn't faced him in weeks, maybe even months, and she doubts that she even could again without remember what had happened between them. There had been too many smiles, too many hugs, too many kisses, for her to just forget the fact that she had, at one time, been planning to live her life by his side. Yet no matter the fact that there had been too many everything's, she hadn't been able to shake the thought that she had been ruining her Harry's life by being as selfish as she was. With every good thing that had occurred for them, something horrible seemed to follow closely behind, and she couldn't endanger his image to the wizarding world- or his life.

By pure accident, she had discovered that their residence at the former home of Sirius Black had been ransacked not much longer after they had left for the hospital. And, with more of her damned luck, she had found that Saint Mungo's would be their next target since they seemed to enjoy keeping Voldemort's mortal enemy inside at all times.

And the reason as to why she had known all this information first hand was a simple fact, really. Harry, while in the throes of his bad dreams and visions, even after he had been taught to keep his enemy out of his head, seemed to talk in his sleep. She had wondered briefly how Ron hadn't ever heard him do it before, but then had thrown the thought away, deeming that their beloved friend had probably slept through most of it, if not it all. Still, that hadn't helped the situation much, and she had ended up writing both Dumbledore and McGonagall about what she had heard. The two had appeared hours later, possibly moments before the imminent attack, with blue polished time turners. Both she and Harry had had them fastened to their necks although separately, unlike their adventure in third year, and their teachers had asked her to pick a date from which they would like to start reversing time from. Hermione, at the time, had answered as best she could, opt to say that she would rather move back eight months, although she was secretive as to why with her teachers. She answered for Harry, offering her thoughts that four months would do- he should forget all about the day that she had told him about her predicament.

It hadn't been until she had felt something pull through her entire being, a pain searing through her abdomen like none she had ever felt before, and then finally opening her eyes to see the roof of her dormitory back at Hogwarts that she knew somewhat about what that time-turner had done. When she had taken a glance at the muggle calendar her parents had insisted she carry at all times, it had been then that her theories had been convinced. She, Hermione Granger, had time traveled back to her original body, using a rare and almost non-findable time-turner that could only be used once through its existence. In other words, it would never work any longer, and she would wear it around her neck as a pendant to remember what she had sacrificed for Harry's happiness without the worry that she would be launched forward or backwards in time.

But, as she took a second look at her calendar, she realized that their professors had sent her back to where she had insisted they would- before she and Ron had made their biggest mistake, and before they had even gotten together.

Hermione could remember feeling awkward the day after she had returned, considering the memories that remained. There had been times when she had forgotten that she had left that time in another universe, and she grew weary of catching herself before she made her mistakes. And then, there had been the subject matter of Harry… Every time they were near one another, she grew flushed and had needed to excuse herself before thinking had become to hard for her. He had immediately figured that she had been avoid him for some reason, and had promptly questioned her behavior after dinner two weeks after she had taken up playing her game of hide-and-seek.

Due to the fact that he had only looked at her as if she was a lunatic when she had asked if he even remembered anything about living at Godric's Hallow with her, she figured that his memory for that morning in that alternate future hadn't returned to him yet. She waited, acting as normally as she could, for him to become the Harry that had held her night after night, but it seemed as though he'd never come.

Around the time that she had given him up, decided that Dumbledore had only sent her back to fix the future, he had run up to her as though he hadn't seen her in years. From that moment, she knew that her Harry had finally come home to her.

Still… it had killed her more than anyone would know to tell him that those adventures they had shared had been nothing more than a dream. If anything, she wanted him to know the truth, to know that her actions to repent her sins had led them her. But, to do that, he would think less of her, and she couldn't bear it if that was what would happen. They had needed to forget everything that had happened, and he certainly needed to move on from something as capricious as their prior relationship.

But that hadn't stopped him from hunting her down once more like he had before, months ago, for the very same reason.

"Harry, I've been studying- don't worry about me. Worry about yourself. How are you going to get a job after we graduate if you haven't practiced any of the curriculums in school?" She knew her answer had been more than pitiful when his ever present worry faced her down. It seemed as though that had been the only thing left behind from those unknown times with her Harry, and she would have smiled if the tears would be the next to follow. The only way she could keep herself from doing just that was berating her friends, especially Harry, about school and the unknown future that was to come.

After her words, that look that she had been trying her hardest to forget would be in his eyes, and she would curse herself silently that she was so weak willed to be unable to fight against it. He'd then give her that partial smile, and something would cross his features- a realization of the irony in his life, probably- and that smile would only grow into its grim shadow. "You're always the first one to be in the library, so… I suppose I might as well, you know, join you?" There had been hope in his voice- the sort that she knew she couldn't deny anything to- and his eyes seemed to be able to look into her soul.

"That… would be kind, Harry," she had answered him after a moment's thought, a silent plea within asking her heart to slow from its lonely race. Even if she wanted to, she knew that she couldn't keep avoiding him forever- their lives in sixth year would be hard enough as it was, and her complications would only be just that- complications. "I would enjoy the company." Out of everything, she hoped to God that her face wasn't as red as she felt it to be. "We could always work on your charms and potions, since both seem to take you a moment longer than the rest of our studies." Offering a somewhat cocky smile, one that teased and entertained him at the same time, she turned back the way she had been going in the first place.

It was a start, but she hoped that her emotions would turn someday to another, if even a little bit, and hoped that her memories and his dream would drift into time and finally be forgotten. Now, all she had to do was find a way to get her heart to cooperate with that plan…

**FIN** _(and I mean it this time…)_

**Orokid**_: So, this chapter was basically used so to make everyone understand the ending better. I hope it helps everyone that was asking me "WTF??" in their reviews. Thanks for reading my entire story, and this is the first (more than two chapters) chapter story that I've completed, so please feel proud of me. Lol. Anyway…_

_Thanks again for taking time out of your life and reading this- I really appreciate it._


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